Chapter 44
CRUTCH
Fourteen days.
Twenty-three times.
I’ve had sex with Luella Margaret Hill twenty-three times over the past fourteen days, and I’m ready for a million more. I never wanna stop making love to her.
Never. Ever. Ever.
And that’s what I’m thinking about as I try to drag my brain back into focus. I’m supposed to be studying for finals. My last two finals are tomorrow, on Friday. I thought about studying at the shop, but Lulu and I refuse to have sex on the little twin bed at the garage. We’re too tall. Arms and legs would be everywhere. We have a hard enough time just actually sleeping in that bed, the few times we’ve stayed there. Plus, Harlan would know . He just would. And that’s weird.
So, we came to the homestead because we both needed to have some immediate sex just to be able to function for the rest of the night.
Our first time was… I can’t even put it into words. There’s not a written or verbal word known to the human race that could describe it.
It did hurt her. And she bled a little. But stretching her all the weeks beforehand definitely helped. She didn’t orgasm our first time together. But she did later that night. I was sound asleep, blissfully happy from our time together, and dog-ass tired from fighting the ravages of the tornado, when she reached across, rubbing my crotch until I woke up. When I rolled over, she looked just like an angel. Some of the candles had burnt out, shadowing her face in a haunted glow. Wordlessly, I put on a condom and slid into her. We didn’t talk, we didn’t whisper. We just stared at each other as I pumped into her. With every stroke, her core accommodated more and more of my body. I get hard even now thinking about the sound she made the first time she came all over my cock. Her orgasm moan from intercourse is fifteen notches higher than her orgasm moan from oral sex.
And I love it.
Just like I love her.
I look over at her now. She cuddles beside me on the loveseat, watching a crime show on her laptop. My own laptop is sitting on my legs, open to the website for one of my classes. The firepit crackles, sending a rush of embers in the air, and the cicadas of early summer chirp in the background.
I kiss the top of her head. “I love you.”
She smiles and sighs in contentment. We decided that we wouldn’t say ‘I love you’ back and forth to one another. If one person says it, the other person has to wait until a completely different moment to say it. That was Lulu’s decision. She said saying it back and forth in response allows it to become automatic. Complacent. She doesn’t want that.
Maybe she’s afraid of becoming loveless. Like her parents.
“I can’t believe your graduation is next Saturday. Are you sure you don’t wanna walk?”
I shrug. “I could not care less about that. What am I walking toward ? I’ve got some decisions to make, and walking across that stage would just remind me that I’ve procrastinated. Being clueless about your future and how to provide for your loved ones is nothing to celebrate.”
She swings her legs down from the seat, clears her throat, and rubs her scar. “Ry, there’s something I need to tell—”
The ringing of her phone startles us both. She grimaces when she looks at the home screen. Parents, Kristie, or Hudson. And the winner is…
“Hi, Mom.”
I close my laptop, wondering what battle My Lulu will be fighting tonight.
“Mom, I already told you I wasn’t going. Several weeks ago. So, I’m not sure where all this is coming from.”
…
“Well, I’m really sorry that Hudson, for no reason whatsoever, thought we would be attending the prom together. He never asked me. I never asked him. And he knows that I’m in a relationship with Ryland.”
Oh, shit. The prom. Is that even a thing anymore?
She sighs. “I know it’s Saturday night, but that doesn’t matter. He could ask any girl in school, and she would jump at the chance to go. I know for a fact that some of the younger girls bought dresses just in hopes that someone would ask them last minute.”
…
“I’m not changing my mind. I made my decision, and it’s final.”
…
“Why don’t we hang out instead? Me and you? We could get some takeout, watch a good movie, talk? We can go through the things that Caleb is giving us—Carrie’s things.”
I don’t know why she does it. She always tries to establish that bond, and her piece of shit mother does nothing but turn her down. Even bringing Carrie into the mix, her mom will still turn her down. At least my mother would agree to hang out with me. Sure, she would only do it to try and squeeze some money out of me, but still.
Lulu is actually having dinner with Caleb tomorrow night. He’s older than Carrie and is finishing his senior year of college. He graduates next week too. Of course, he has a four-year degree. Not two, like me. He wants to meet with Lulu to give her some of Carrie’s things that he still has. I offered to go with her, but she wants to do it by herself, just her and Caleb. I’m fine with that. I’m proud of her for always being so damn strong.
Lulu points her chin in the air, swallowing. “No, I understand.”
…
“I’m not even at home right now, Mom.”
…
“Okay. Bye.” Hanging up the phone, she looks battle wearied and drained.
“Prom?”
“Yeah. It’s Saturday night. I’m not going. Hence, the drama.”
I reach down beside me, grabbing my water. I drain half the bottle and hand the rest to her. “Why don’t you wanna go to your prom? Isn’t that some big rite of passage every high school student should experience?”
She smirks, lasering into my eyes. “Really. And how did your prom go? Did you have fun?”
Damn she-devil. She wins. “I didn’t go to my prom.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, it’s supposed to be different for girls. There has to be a reason you don’t wanna go.”
She makes a big show of standing up and stoking the fire.
“Lulu, do you plan on telling me the reason you don’t wanna go to your prom?
“No.”
“Well, I suggest you quickly modify your plans, then.”
She stiffens her back and stares at me, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “Fine. The school has a stupid rule that no one over the age of twenty can attend the prom. Last time I looked at your license, that rules you out.”
Oh.
She scowls, “And so help me, Ryland Joseph Crutchfield, if you say I should go with someone else, I will beat you to a pulp. The name Hudson Plott better never leave your lips.”
I scoff. “Fuck no. I’d rather send you on a date with the weird-looking guy from the taco restaurant. The guy with the one eyebrow and the forked tongue.” At least that gets a smile out of her. “Seriously, why didn’t you just tell me about the prom and the age limit?”
She shrugs. “It wasn’t important. It didn’t have you there. So, it wasn’t important.”
Inwardly I groan. Shit. Looks like I’m throwing a prom Saturday night.